


Where Did You Come From?

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), Giraffes, M/M, Stuffed Toys, comfort items
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: Robbie finds a stuffed animal and recruits Sportacus to help find the owner.





	Where Did You Come From?

**Author's Note:**

> I was very tired and thinking about how much Robbie might like the giraffe I've had since I was five.

Robbie wasn’t quite sure where she came from. He had just found her one night as he made rounds of picking up anything that had been lost during the day. He liked to collect lost things as they could always be made into something new. If someone was careless enough to lose something then they clearly weren’t careful enough with it to miss it, were they?

Not this thing. She was a small stuffed giraffe with a crooked horn and eyes that looked just a little off. Her mane was black with a red and blue streak in the bangs, made from frayed yarn. She was sitting on his favorite bench as if waiting for him, so he picked her up. He could see where someone had stitched seams back together by hand, and if he pulled the mane back he could see where the original had been cut away and sewn over like an apology. The same was true of the end of her tail, though the horn tufts were still shorn. Clearly the giraffe had survived a child’s destructive phase and been kept long enough for the child to grow a conscience and correct the offence. It had been corrected well, too.

“Someone must have loved you. How did you get here?”

The giraffe didn’t answer. Robbie didn’t expect her to. Still, she seemed to radiate kindness and a gentle sort of wisdom. He took her to his lair without a second thought. 

Once home he thought of putting the giraffe where he put the other lost things that he found, but decided against. She really didn’t deserve to be recycled and someone might actually miss her. Instead, he tucked her in the corner of his chair and covered her with his purple cow blankie, Moorice. He knew he was a bit old to still have the comfort item but if the giraffe was old as she looked then he evidently wasn’t the only one. He wondered who she belonged to and if she had a name. This was when he noticed a handmade bracelet that had lettered beads that spelled out ‘FRIZZLE’.

“What kind of a name is Frizzle?” He wondered aloud as he read the bracelet.

The giraffe, Frizzle, remained motionless and unresponsive. Robbie decided he must be tired and let himself drop into his chair, which rocked back under his weight. The motion caused Frizzle to flop from leaning against the arm of the chair to the villain’s thigh. He let her stay there, brushing his fingertips over her fur absently. He liked the blanket fuzz better, as it was more familiar, but the giraffe was still nice.

Robbie turned the television on, volume low, and fell asleep within an hour. He slept relatively peacefully given the fact he hadn’t bothered to even recline the chair. He couldn't remember any specific dreams but he knew they must have been nice when he woke up around noon the next day.

Frizzle had managed to get wedged partially between the back of the chair and the cushion. Moorice had joined in her escape attempt, wrapped around the spotted neck like a scarf or perhaps a cape.

Robbie dug them both out of the chair crevice and put them on the end table. After a thought he rearranged Frizzle into a sitting position and straightened the blankie over her back. He regarded them for a moment to make sure they looked right, then went to his periscope to see what the brats were up to. None of them were looking around the bench which further confirmed his thought that the giraffe didn’t belong to a kid; A young adult or teenager at the very least, but not one of the little ones. None of the children could sew well enough.

Robbie didn’t see any older people out looking for their lost friend either. He would check later but if there was still nobody looking by tomorrow he supposed Frizzle was his friend for now. 

The rest of the day was spent alternating between eating cake, tinkering, disguise planning, and watching television with his new buddy. He checked the bench with his periscope but nobody came looking. Something felt off about that; It was sad. Who would spend years of their life making sure something stayed in such a good condition, _even making improvements,_ just to lose it and not even bother to look?

Robbie still had Moorice from childhood. He knew the importance of comfort items and he knew that was exactly what Frizzle had to be. Whoever owned her must have just been too stressed without her to go looking, which was the start of a vicious cycle. He personally would have a fit if he lost Moorice. Villainy was one thing but Robbie was not an asshole. 

He went to the mailbox and sent a letter to Sportacus. The hero’s ladder dropped and he was on the ground in seconds.

“Hi Robbie! What did you mean someone is missing a giraffe? Did a circus come to town?”

“No. Of course not. It’s a stuffed animal.” Robbie corrected, and spun on his heel to go back to his lair. “Come with me.”

Sportacus was reasonably confused, but cheerfully followed.


End file.
